My 1st-grade teddy bear
Is my favorite gift
From my Dad now
Of blessed memory
The closest other came
Many years later
A postcard Buddah
From a temple in Kyoto
When Dad was giving
A paper in Japan
A nod to my taking up
Meditation during
My divorce
The teddy bear presided
Over the fantasy tea parties
With my dolls–but never
Had a proper name
To this day when I’m
In my sixties he’s still
Called Radio Bear
After his brief function
As a provider of music–
Something that vanished
When I dropped him
Too often
His nose is an on/off button
And his eyes are amber in color
I don’t know how Dad
Would feel about my choices
He and my stepmother
Gave me china crystal
Gold jewelry and notable
Handbags plus
Madame Alexander dolls
Yet naturally my fave
Gift from Karen
Was my first Barbie
A very demure 1960s Skipper
Favorite other than the
Raggedy Anne and Andy
Dolls she sewed from scratch
Works of art my mother
Simply took away from me
So nice that it’s not possible
To go back in time
I don’t recommend
Being a child of divorce
That long ago
Even with nothing
But expectations at fault
Dad also appreciated
My poetry
He gave me a wide range
Of books from a collection
On notable doctors
Which I regret was not
An influence
To a children’s Gilgamesh
I wish I still had
Later in life we discussed
Taoism and William James
By phone
I look a bit like my father
I wish I could claim
To have his powers
Of observation but
I do my best
Being as sharp as he was
Could be cutting
But I know he had
My best interests at heart
And then there’s Radio Bear
